


Wound Care

by whorerormovie



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), claude: i'm not a healer but, pretty much a dimitri makes claude feel things plot, they're just so cute and i needed to get this out of my system, while claude bandages him up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whorerormovie/pseuds/whorerormovie
Summary: While in the library Claude notices Dimitri's hand injury and decides to do something about it.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 127





	Wound Care

He could no longer bear to be witness to the prince’s pathetic wincing. Each time pallid digits grasped the edge of a page, the pained frown of his lips worsened, stretching thinly like a thread about to snap. 

Dimitri is no stranger to injuries, the way he amasses them on his body should be an art form all on its own. Whether it’s from training or out on the field, each day offers something new in terms of cuts, scrapes or bruises. Claude does not understand why Dimitri lives like this, like every battle has to be fought, like forfeiting is never the answer, like the thought of running away never crosses his mind. 

Fleeing crosses Claude’s mind all the time. There is no shame in running away to fight another day. No it’s not because he’s weak nor is fear a factor, it’s a tactical option. It’s through wit and endurance that he’s managed to survive all these years, not honor. Honor won’t save his skin, save that for an epitaph.

That being said, there is something he understands even less, that being how Dimitri is so terrible at taking care of himself. The gauze wrapped around his hand was due for a change some time ago, evident by the dark stains of dried blood absorbed through the layers. Adding to that is the looseness of the wrap offering no compression and exposing the wound. His hand is a bit swollen from the aftermath of the injury and Claude’s guess is that Dimitri expects his body to heal naturally so that he may focus on other, more important things. He’s a prince after all, juggling many duties, a hand injury wasn’t high on the list.

So it would be within the confinements of his room that Claude will enact a single act of kindness. 

It’s a risk to have the prince of Faerghus locked inside his bedroom, but it’s a risk Claude is willing to take. Even if Claude took proper measures to ensure they weren’t spotted leaving the library, one never knows whose privy eyes lurk in the shadows, watching in silence as Claude leads a fellow house leader by the wrist. It becomes especially risky when that house leader is the future king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. What would those rumors entail if those eyes saw how Claude brought Dimitri into his chambers with hushed movements. In what ways will they paint him as the villain? How will the students of Garreg Mach claim Claude ruined Dimitri’s innocence through his nefarious schemes? 

Claude’s reputation precedes him for being insatiable with his curiosity , but it wasn’t curiosity that got him in this situation, it was his desire to help. 

A moistened towel cleans the borders of the cut in gentle strokes. Every dry spec of blood washed away under Claude’s care. Gentle pressure builds as the tip of his fingers traces the edge of the open wound, sanitizing the best he could without the infliction of pain. Claude then lays the towel underneath Dimitri’s hand, bundled as a ball so the fabric can soak up any falling residue. 

“This is going to sting a bit, _hm_ , or maybe a lot.” At least Claude provides a warning. At the words Dimitri’s hand tenses up, he can feel the metacarpals become straighter and the muscles become tight. Claude supports Dimitri’s hand with one of his own, the elbow atop his desk ensuring both their hands remain elevated. His teeth bite into a cork to pull it out of a bottle, with a pop Claude spits the buoyant item meanwhile the fragrance of calendula fills the void between them. 

Claude generously pours the contents of the bottle over the wound, managing to drench the skin and sleeves with its herbal essence. Dimitri’s fingers begin to curl, his jaw tightens and teeth grit to mediate the stinging in his hand. The site of the wound begins to foam at the introduction of his concoction. A healing potion meant to accelerate the healing process of a wound, it is not as effective as white magic but this will have to do. 

Dimitri closes his hand, and Claude allows the gesture if only to see the intensity behind the clench. Knuckles are white and daring as Dimitri squeezes, the excess liquid flowing out from the sides of his fists. Dimitri would not look at him in the eye, instead, he hides his gaze behind a curtain of yellow. Prim and proper bangs fit for a regal figure, but Dimitri does not carry himself with the elegance of a prince. He struggles in this moment and seems uncertain, anxious even. 

Claude leans in closer, his braid moving past his shoulder to dangle by the side of his face. Short swings, his hair moves side to side like a clock’s tick, and that itself provides a distraction. The color of his eyes a vibrant shade of green, gems of emerald cut into circular stones and placed into his sockets. It simply adds to his beauty just as the gold hinted on the corner of his eyelids does. 

A smile tugs at his lips, it’s a dangerous thing when it happens. With Dimitri it is the opposite, there is a frown. It would be upsetting if he simply wasn’t so cute. The hues of his cheeks speckled with the color of roses, adding color to that once blank slate. Is he embarrassed? Angry? Frustrated?

Finding the answer shouldn’t be too difficult, Claude is inquisitive by nature after all, he’s mastered many techniques over the years. 

“Do you think I gave you poison?” He picks a straightforward approach this time. Dimitri is a noble in name and by heart, Claude has never met someone so earnest in his life, and honestly, Dimitri is one of a kind for it. Even so, underneath all that kindness, he’s seen glimpses of the storm channeling within. The sparks of lighting flashing blue, electric like the color of his eyes. Claude does not want to be caught in that storm, not now, no amount of knowledge would be worth that.

Dimitri shakes his head, wordlessly answering the question. “Heavens no Claude I just, I recognized the smell.” With every word that left him, Dimitri’s tension loosened. His fingers uncoiling, leaving his palm open, and the cut appearing cleaner. He sounds as if he’s in clear thought, unfrazzled by expectations of comportment. “Calendula. I remember that the petals are sticky, but edible.” His voice is soft as he reminisces, then clears his throat as his gaze shifts downward, the blue of his eye difficult to see as he shies away. Dimitri’s lips part to speak, but Claude ever so ready beats him to the chase with a sentence. “It’s pretty interesting that you know this.” His expressions beams up at the possibility of another herbalist amongst his peers. 

“How do you know so much about plants?” Claude asks

Dimitri shifts in his seat, somewhat uncomfortable, he also attempts to bring his hand back but the golden deer leader does not relent, not without a bandage at least. That being said, Claude brings a bandage roll into view and only let’s go of Dimitri to pull at the band. The expectation is that Dimitri would remain just as he was so that Claude can bandage him, but like always, Dimitri defies all of Claude's expectations and instead gets up from the chair. 

“I believe it’s time for me to leave, I've inconvenienced you enough, Claude.” Dimitri looks at his palm before clenching it tightly and letting it fall to the side. 

“You could inconvenience me further.” Claude responds a little too smoothly, just running along the words Dimitri feeds him. He continues to stretch out the bandage and motions for Dimitri to reclaim his seat with a gesture of the head. 

“Thank you Claude. You’ve done enough, truly, but I cannot continue to take advantage of your hospitality. You shouldn’t have to take responsibility for my misgivings.” Interesting, Dimitri speaks faster when he’s being stubborn. There’s fluctuations and variance in the tones that make him sound more lively in contrast to his more filtered and etiquette-abiding phrases. 

Claude sighs, his shoulders fall dejectedly, and says “I’m not one of your vassals.” The deer looks straight into the lion’s eyes, the prey’s gaze is unwavering to accentuate his seriousness. “I’m not doing this out of obligation. I’m doing this because I want to, because I don’t like hurting others nor do I like to see others hurt.” Claude’s forearms lay on the table now, his fingers tightening on the bandage, and he pretended that those same fingers of his smother an unnamed feeling inside. 

He pins it all under the guise of kindness, but, they both know that his generosity does not come without attachment. Claude wants something and that something that cannot be said aloud because it can be used against him. He longs to be touched, to be accepted, respected and wanted. And Dimitri, Dimitri can give him these things, has given him these things in small doses. A smile here, a compliment there, the way he walks at his side without the need to keep an obvious distance, when he looks at Claude when he thinks Claude isn’t looking, it all adds up. And yet when Claude begins to want too much he has to remember his dreams, and the sacrifice it requires. Seventeen years spent in loneliness has left him hollow, what’s a couple more years added to that? 

**If only their roles were different.**

“You’re hurt so please just let me do this.” Claude doesn’t beg and he’s definitely not going to start begging now. “Please, just do this for me.” He’s not begging, he’s reasoning.

It took a bit for Dimitri to reach that point but he conceded to the other’s request. He sat and offered his hand for Claude to mend under a dressing. 

Claude smiles. 

“Thank you for taking such good care of my, uh, cut.” Dimitri begins. To someone like Dimitri all this care for one pesky cut may seem impractical, but what he had overlooked is that a dirty bandage could put him at risk for an infection. Claude hums in acknowledgement.

He swathes the bandage from the base of Dimitri’s thumb leading to the base of his other fingers, a methodical process that requires repetitive movements.

“You never answered my question. The one about the plants.” Claude reminds him, tugging at the dressing to ensure its tightness on Dimitri’s skin. 

“Oh, Um. I know some things though certainly not as much as you. I would not consider it a study but I have experimented on which plants are edible and which ones are not.” 

**Edible plants.**

“Did you seriously eat the weeds?” Claude asks while continuing his work. He once heard a rumor, figured it’d be the perfect opportunity to ask.

An expression of shock followed by silence. Red concentrates on the bridge of Dimitri’s nose and extends outwardly to his cheeks. Drops of sweat begin to fall across his face, an accusatory tone soon follows afterwards “I don’t even get-“

Claude bursts out in laughter, loud and hearty at the prince’s expense. 

“Why would I -“ 

Claude interrupts again by hitting the table in a fit of laughter. 

“I’m just saying...”

Claude’s laughter is contagious because now Dimitri is laughing too. Down the road he will look back at this moment of reprieve fondly, for it was a moment they were both at ease and happy. Even more than that, it was truly the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

_____________________________________ 

Many moons have passed and between those passing moons Dimitri’s visits have become all the more frequent. Worth a mention is that every visit is in regards to the same thing, to take care of his wounds. The first couple of times Claude thought nothing of it, however, once it became clear that Dimitri was avoiding the healers, you know, those certified in the craft, Claude became a little curious. 

He had to tread lightly with the topic, so Claude tiptoes around the margin looking for a stable place to stand. The ground beneath feels like quicksand, his pulse quickens with the question. “Why me?” Okay, that didn’t come out right, that wasn’t the question, well -it is- but it wasn’t supposed to come out that straight forward. 

“Hmm?” Dimitri opens an eye then to look at Claude, his expression asking for clarification on the matter. They’re both sitting on Claude’s bed, both with their legs crossed as they face one another. Claude’s hand settles on his knee as he looks offhand for gauze and tape. “Dimitri I’m not a healer. Don’t take it wrong I’ll take care of your wounds as much as you need me to, and I’ll be happy to, but there’s only so much my medicines and supplies can do. What if one day you come to me and I can’t-” he’s cut off.

“It’ll be enough. Anything you do, _everything you do_ , will suffice. I’ll need nothing more.” Dimitri sounds so certain, so unclouded with the future of uncertainty that Claude can’t help but think it’s foolish. The foolish thoughts of a seventeen year old

“You don’t know that.” Claude reaches for the gauze and presses it to the cut on his cheek. Every time he sees Dimitri there’s something new on him, a new cut, a new scrape, a bruise, a burn, a prick, the list is endless and Dimitri seeks out Claude everytime to piece him together. “Hold this.” He requests, his sun kissed fingers pressing on the gauze meanwhile waiting for Dimitri’s to get there. Once Dimitri’s hand is on the piece of gauze he feels his warmth immediately, splaying over his fingertips. 

Claude’s hand moves away, forcing himself to think nothing of it.

“I do know, Claude. I know that I feel comfortable with you.” Claude stops moving for a second upon hearing the words. He hopes that Dimitri failed to notice his faltering. He reaches then for the tape and tears out a piece, unprepared for what else Dimitri has to say. “I do not wish to bother my housemates, I am their leader, therefore I have to be strong for them. I have to be an example, I cannot be weak, too much depends on me. I like to believe that you understand this, being a house leader yourself.” 

Claude does understand.

This is when Claude seals the gauze in place with the tape, he places the strip horizontally against Dimitri’s cheek. “I do.” Says the golden deer leader, fully aware of his loss in the argument. Nevertheless, there’s still Manuela, he could introduce him to Marianne, there are other alternatives-

“I like being with you.” Comes from Dimitri’s voice, all too earnest, all too sweet. Oh you’ve done it now Dimitri, you’ve made Claude blush. It takes a full minute for Claude to compose himself, by the goddess he has a reputation to keep! 

“W-well.” Claude clears his throat. “Don’t feel the need to get injured on my account, my door is always open for you, your princeliness.”

Dimitri chuckles and it is then that Claude decides that it is the most wonderful sound ever created and that he will do anything to hear it again. 

“Please, call me Dimitri.”

Claude does not say it. Not now at least, not when their worlds are so far apart. So he settles for teasing nicknames, to keep himself so featherly light and just out of hands reach. Claude desperately wants to, he wants Dimitri’s friendship, wants more than that but cannot allow himself to have it. He has dreams he has to accomplish, so what they have now will have to be enough.


End file.
